New Game Plus
by genericdarklord
Summary: This is a story about what defines a person, and what it's like to watch it vanish. Are you still you when your body, mind, or soul are being stripped away? Some try to erase their past, but it won't let them. Some try to avoid their future, but can't. Some try to escape their destiny, but are bound instead. But a chaotic soul can seriously mess up the plans of... everyone, really.
1. Before The After, After The Before

New Game Plus

Prologue: "After The Before, Before The After"

AKA: "Life's A Bitch, Death Is Too"

* * *

 **L.I.M.B.O.**

 **L** ow-priority **I** ncarnation **M** anufacturing and **B** inding **O** ffice

Office #745598314212745781498544263471332284694-ZRVN

"T689-55Th1jL7t74REf996E-RrR-kM8d7gG23-Vr55RpO9Hr-T:h3X-G:9," the woman on the other side of the desk said.

"What?"

"That's y- _Don't lift your hand_! Keep it on the plate," she replied.

T689 stared down at his hand. Pressing it back down on the cool metal plate, he muttered, "Sorry. What was that, though?"

"Look, my job is to get you registered, not to explain things to you."

Think for a moment, T689 grinned at her and very deliberately lifted his hand off the plate. "Oops," he gasped in a very unconvincing manner.

"Damn it! Look what you did! Now I have to start all over!" she snapped. "Put your hand back down!"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I have this muscle condition… Wait. Do I even have muscles?"

She glared at him as he pressed his hand against the plate again. "No, you don't. You're just a soul. No body means no muscles. You _don't_ have muscles and you _don't_ have a muscle condition. You don't have an _anything_ condition. Dead people don't have conditions."

"Oh. That makes sense," T689 said agreeably. "So, I have this muscle condition. It makes me twitch uncontrollably when I get bored. It has bizzarelly and inexplicably followed me into the afterlife. Given my unique soul-muscle condition, it'd be in your best interest to talk about something that interests me."

The woman's fingers made an unpleasant sound as they dragged across the desk. "I really don't like you."

"Yeah, I get that. Oh! Oh no! My arm's getting antsy! It's gonna move!"

" _Fine_. That's your Spiritual Identification Number. It's how the system keeps track of you. It _is_ you, basically," she spat. "God, Anna was right. Hex-types are a pain in the ass."

"Hex-types?"

Watching his hand carefully, she replied, "Type: h3X. Hex-type. Your model was discontinued _ages_ ago. You should consider yourself lucky, actually. Every one of you aside from the generation 7 and- 9 batches was taken out of circulation and scrapped. There isn't even a lot of Generation 9 Hex-types left. Keep your hand on the plate.

"Oh, don't worry. My hand finds this interesting. When you say we were 'scrapped,' what do you mean?"

"Souls are produced to fill certain roles," she answered as she ran her fingers over the engraved plate in front of her as fast as she could. "Models are developed to accomplish specific tasks more efficiently. I'm a Mr5, for example. We're known for our intelligence and efficiency."

Chuckling, T689 said, "But I'm guessing you're a bit short on personality and social grace, yeah?"

"Funny. There was a problem in the Hex-type manufacturing process, I guess. They don't really keep us around if we're not useful. From what I hear, your type was actually more of a liability than anything. A few of you go Up really fast, all the rest go Down even faster. It's kind of surprising to see one of you, even down here in low-priority processing."

T689 frowned. "Up and Down? Like, Heaven and Hell?"

"Ooh, sorry. All done," she said unapologetically. There was a sound like a very old typewriter as a strip of paper slid haltingly out of a slit in the surface in the desk. The woman quickly tore it off and examined it. "Wow. Bum-mer."

"What?"

She gave him a sweet smile. "Well, it looks like you're not the type that goes Up. Here's a free one: there's only one place to go from low-priority if you screw up too bad. I'd say I'll see you soon, but that seems pretty unlikely at this point. Bye-bye," she said happily. Quickly shoving the paper into his hands, she yelled, "Next!"

"The hell is this?" T689 asked staring down at the paper.

"It's your receipt, duh. Isn't it obvious?"

Considering it, he nodded. "Yeah, actually. Sure looks like a receipt. What's it for?

"Are you dumb? It's _your_ receipt. Next!"

"So, it's a receipt for… me? What happens if I lose it?"

"You don't want to do that. Next!"

"Hey, I-"

The woman gave him a nasty look. "Look, you're holding up the line. Don't hold up the line. It's long enough. _If_ you hold up the line, I suppose I'll have to call security," the told him with a very eager look on her face.

T689 turned and looked over his shoulder. The line behind him stretched off into the distance. It was only one of the dozens of them, and every single one wound out of sight and eventually reached the far side of the unimaginably large room.

"Fair enough, I guess. Thanks for the receipt. It's the nicest receipt for me I've ever had," he muttered, standing.

"I'd enjoy it if I were you. It's probably the last time you'll see one. Go through the door and turn right. Go through _that_ door and proceed to the secondary processing center indicated on your receipt. Bye-bye!"

Scowling, T689 walked through the indicated door. He honestly wasn't sure why they even had the dumb thing. It just lead out into the area behind her desk. The front looked just like the back: countless desks separated by short walls. The only major difference was the presence of a great many souls wandering down the line, travelling in the same direction he was supposed to go.

Muttering to himself, he held up his receipt and examined at it.

Standard Soul - Type : h3X - Generation : 9

SIN

T689-55Th1jL7t74REf996E-RrR-kM8d7gG23-Vr55RpO9Hr

Karmic Balance

27,832

Purity Rating

0.063

Role Incarnation Priority

Low

Aside from that, there was just something resembling a QR code towards the bottom, composed of an enormous number of nearly imperceptible dots in a multitude of colors.

T689 only made it a few desks before pausing with a thoughtful look on his face. Giving the paper another look, he quickly glanced around. His eyes quickly fixed on on the nearest desk as he spotted what he was looking for.

"Eh, whatever. Sounds like I'm pretty screwed, anyway."

He took a step towards the nearest desk and tapped the man sitting there on one shoulder. As the receptionist turned, he darted around the other side and snatched a pen off his desk. The man quickly turned the other way and gave him a confused look.

"Sorry, bro. You had this, like, nasty bug thing on your shoulder. Don't worry, I got it," T689 said happily.

"There's no bugs here…"

"It was some kind of… soul bug or something. I don't know, I just got here. Anyway, you're welcome."

Giggling slightly, T689 continued down the line a bit further before stopping at another desk. Paying no attention to the confused woman there, he threw his receipt up against the wall and took his new pen to it.

Standard Soul - Type : h3X - Generation : 9

SIN

T689-55Th1jL7t74REf996E-RrR-kM8d7gG23-Vr55RpO9Hr

Karmic Balance

27,832

278,320

Purity Rating

0.063

0.630

Role Incarnation Priority

Low

High

He finished up the alteration by yanking a nose hair out to trigger a sneeze, then unleashing a massive torrent of snot onto the QR code.

"Yep. Seems legit to me," T689 giggled with a very unconvinced look on his face. "Seriously, there's no way in hell someone's that retarded. Oh well. What're they gonna do, kill me?"

Whistling happily, he strolled down the line of desks. It took a lot of strolling, but eventually he reached his destination. Upon passing through the door he discovered that his destination wasn't actually his destination, but the first step in his great journey.

What followed was mind-numbingly boring at best. It involved confused groups of people, people-confusing maps, dozens of elevators, detours, detours around detours, bad elevator music, detours around elevators playing bad music, a broken elevator, climbing an incomprehensibly long ladder, falling off an incomprehensibly long ladder, climbing it again, falling off it on purpose, climbing it again and an incredible amount of walking down featureless hallways.

Finally…

"Sweet. Area 8A, Section 2F, Subsection 6K, Subsubsection 5T, Microsection 2R, Sector 8I, Subsector 4P, Block 4H, Cell 7S, Unit 7J, Corridor 9E, Room 5T. That took forever…" he sighed as he passed through the door.

The man behind the desk looked up at him in confusion as he entered. "Uh, hi… Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah. I'm here for… whatever it is you do. I just realized I don't actually know what you're supposed to do..."

The other man scratched his head. "Uh, I'm supposed to do your analysis, assignment and sorting. I-"

"My _Sorting_!? Oh, can I be in Slytherin? Please put me in Slytherin! Being somewhere backstabbing, plotting and sabotage is encouraged and celebrated would be awesome!" T689 whispered with stars in his eyes.

"..."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I realized a while ago that being dead basically means I don't have to worry about the consequences of my actions. I've pretty much been doing whatever I want, and I wasn't the most focused person to begin with. From what the bi- unpleasant woman that registered me said, it's probably because I'm a Type-h3X. It's nice to know it's because I was made wrong, and not because I'm frighteningly irresponsible."

The man's face immediately became more interested. "You're a h3X?"

"So I'm told. You seem a lot more excited about that than that chick was…"

"Are you kidding? You guys are great! The last one I had in here, she turned every living thing on her planet female. She said she just didn't like how men looked. Of course, literally every species went extinct a generation later, but she considered it an acceptable loss."

T689 shrugged. "Yeah, I can see that. Sorry, but I've never done anything that crazy. I _do_ pull off all those little tags on my furniture, though…"

"It's cool. As your processor, I'll be able to keep an eye on you in a _very_ limited fashion. It's only really enough to get a general sense of what you've done, but it's usually interesting anyway," the processor said happily. "Here, give me your receipt."

T689 obediently handed it over.

"Good, I- What the hell happened to this thing!?"

"Oh, I asked some guy to read it for me. It's hard to do myself, what with me being illiterate and all. He agreed to, but he sneezed all over it when I handed it over. What a dick, right?"

The processor frowned at him. "There's no way that could happen. People don't sneeze here."

"They don't?"

"No. You don't have a body. Your 'physical' reactions are based entirely on perceptive reality. You should only sneeze if something happens that makes you believe you should be sneezing. It's not the sort of thing most people would randomly think of."

T689 pondered that little bit of trivia, then asked, "Is that why it didn't hurt when I fell down that bigass ladder? It seemed to hurt the people I hit on the way down, so I was kind of wondering about that…"

"Wow. Well, it _would_ hurt for most people. They'd see that they're about to hit the floor at high speed and just assume it would hurt. The only-"

Before he could finish, T689 leaned forward and snagged a pen off his desk. He held it up and examined it briefly, then twirled it around and rammed it into his thigh point first.

" _Oh my god_!" the processor screamed in horror, recoiling.

T689 studied the pen with a fascinated look on his face. He'd managed to plunge it straight through his pants and into his flesh. It was driven so deep that it stood upright on its own. It didn't move at all, not even when he gave it an experimental flick. "Huh. Cool."

"What the _hell_ , man!?"

"Hey, chill. It's mind over matter! Wait, I don't have matter…"

"You can't just-"

T689 quickly yanked the writing implement free and jabbed it into his other thigh.

"Stop it! Damn it, don't just… Look. First off, no one's illiterate here. You're not actually reading, you're just sort of absorbing the meaning. That's why you can understand me too, despite the fact that the chance of us sharing a language is nearly nothing. Second, there's no way in hell some random person just sneezed on this. I'm just going to work on the assumption that _you_ did it, okay?"

T689 nodded, withdrew the pen, and rammed it into his stomach. "That seems like a pretty reasonable assumption," he admitted.

"Are you going to stop doing that at some point?"

"When I get bored."

"I'll just interpret that as a no."

"That is also a safe assumption."

The processor sighed and shook his head. "Dear god, you're worse than the last one. Somehow this is a lot more amusing when I'm just getting reports of it happening to someone else. Let's get you processed and… Did you write on this? Did you seriously just take a pen and write on your receipt?"

T689 managed to give him a shocked and disgusted look. "Are you _kidding_!? That's my receipt, man! It's my _receipt_! What kind of sick bastard would write on their receipt?"

The unbound soul found himself the subject of a long, intense study. Finally, the processor slowly smiled. "You know what? You're right. No one would write on their receipt. It's lucky for me, I guess."

"Oh?"

"I've never seen a h3X get a high-priority role. You're usually pretty good at screwing the brass' plans to hell, so I'm guessing it's pretty interesting."

"Hm… I can, with a great deal of confidence, say that you've made another good assumption. I've yet to meet a situation I can't make worse," T689 said proudly.

The processor glanced down at his wrist and smiled. "Oh, good timing. I need to call my supervisor about this. He's on his lunch break right now, so don't be surprised if he's a little cranky."

"Meh. I've heard worse."  
The processor quickly swept a finger across his engraved plate. A sound - much like that of an old telephone - filled the air. It took nearly a dozen rings before the person on the other end answered.

"What!?" an angry male voice demanded. "I'm at lunch. You know you're not supposed to disturb me unless it's an emergency!"

The processor flipped the unseen speaker off even as he said, "It kind of is, sir," in a respectful voice.

"Is it now?"

"Yes sir. I have a soul here for processing, but it seems like he was filed incorrectly."

"So what? A minor error isn't worth whining to me about."

A second middle finger joined the first. "I know, sir, but this isn't a minor error. He's supposed to be in high-priority!" the processor said with obvious shock and horror.

There was a long pause before the stunned voice asked, "You're joking, right?"

"No sir. It says right on his receipt."

"You're sure it's not wrong?"

The processor released a put-upon sigh. "It's his _receipt_ , sir."

"Damn it all. Why does this shit always happen on my shift? You're authorized to put him on temporary hold until I get there. I'll be down as soon as I'm done," the voice muttered.

"Um, sir? I know this is out of line… but could you come right away? He's a Hex, sir. I don't know if I can deal with him for that long."

"Shit. Look, you'll just have to hang in there-"

The processor ended the sentence prematurely by leaning to the side and vomiting on the floor.

"Ym95? What the hell was that?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the processor said weakly as he wiped off his mouth. "The h3X just shoved a pen into his eye. Straight into it! I'm… going to need to call janitorial for- Urp!" The processor slapped a hand over his mouth, but only managed to make his second round of vomiting explode out his nose.

"...the other eye?" the supervisor asked.

"Y-yes, sir. H- he's looking at me. He's l- looking at me with pens in his eyes… I have puke in my sinuses… It burns, sir."

"Dear god. Look… I really want nothing to do with this one. Just execute a manual override and refile him. High-priority will whine about us bumping one of their slots, but they'll get over it. Hang in there, okay?"

The processor smiled wanly as the line clicked closed. "Well, that went alright."

"Sweet," T689 said with a grin. He tilted his head to the side and carefully peered at the other man in his peripheral vision. "I'd say you look happy, but I honestly can't see anything past these pens."

"Yeah. Could you maybe… take those out now? It was helpful, but…" he paused and shuddered. "Ew."

T689 obediently yanked the writing implements out of his retinas. "Man, you've sure got a weak stomach for someone who doesn't actually have a stomach." He giggled, slamming both pens straight up his nostrils. He gave on a flick and giggled again when it didn't move. "Hey, look! I'm a walrus!"

"Type-VmR souls tend to be a little on the sensitive side, so could you please stop that?"

T689 didn't bother responding verbally. Ramming a pen into each ear seemed like answer enough. "Ooh, yeah. Brain massage. We're pretty heavy into stereotyping around here, aren't we?"

The processor quite deliberrately turned away and started tapping his engraved plate again. "It's not really stereotyping. Souls are specifically made to have certain attributes. It makes us more suited for certain roles. You wouldn't want a VmR for a hardened soldier role, but we're good for anything that requires a high degree of empathy."

"So what's a Type-h3X good for?"

"Uh… well… You're notoriously unpredictable and unreliable. You don't have a lot of restraint or sense of proportion. Your emotional response tends to be a bit off, and your thought process tends to be chaotic. The only think you're really used for is emergency intervention. Occasionally, if a timeline is going really sideways, they'll toss one of you into a high-priority role and see what happens. Since you tend to act so far outside of expectations, there's a chance you might do something totally off the wall and make things better. It doesn't matter if you don't, though, because the place was screwed anyway."

"Huh. Does that happen a lot?"

"Well… not really. You tend to just make things go down in flames that much quicker. You're probably better than most if you're still in circulation, though."

T689 shrugged. "I like to think I'm pretty reliable if it situation requires it, if it's absolutely necessary and if there's serious consequences if I don't. Offering me sugar and shiny things is helpful, too. I think my spirit animal is a magpie."

The processor shook his head and sighed. "You know, I almost feel bad for doing this to that poor timeline. Almost," he declared. His desk spat out a small plastic card, which he quickly grabbed and passed to T689. "That's-"

"-my card?" T689 finished. The small bit of plastic looked a lot like an ID. It sported his SIN, a picture and his newly-updated information.

"That'd be it. Your account's been updated, so someone would have to look pretty hard to see any oddities, assuming those oddities exist. Just head back out the way you came and you'll end up at one of the workshops."

T689 turned to look at the door behind him. "Uh, I just came from there…"

"Spacial dimensions don't mean much here. Just go down the hall. It's straight and there's no intersections, so it's pretty hard to get lost. If you _do_ see an intersection go straight through it. If you see a turn, turn around and come straight back. Do not, under any circumstances, make a turn."

"What happens if I-"

"You don't want to do it," the processor said blandly. "Trust me, you don't."

T689 nodded agreeable."My fine-tuned don't-screw-myself-over sense tells me you're probably right. I'll be good."

"Good. Now, I'd tell you to go and mess things up really good, but it's kind of pointless."

"It is?"

"Souls generally only remember their last life, and only until they're incarnated again. You'll be formatted before they bind you into a new role."

T689 signed unhappily. "Bummer. Oh well. C'ya later."

By the time T689 reached his destination, he was pale and twitching slightly. Along the way he'd had to pass through 97 intersections. By the 34th, the urge to take a random turn was nearly overwhelming. Every single one after that had been pure torture. It was only through the full force of his mighty willpower that he reached the workshop intact.

The place was cluttered. It was full of random parts, wires and screen. It very strongly resembled the shop of a particularly mess electrician or mechanic. A young woman in dirty coveralls was kneeling next to a large device in the center, making adjustments with a wrench.

"Hey, I'm-"

"Get in the chair and don't move," she cut him off. "I'm almost done fixing this damn servo. I swear I spend more time fixing this piece of crap than using it…"

T689 examined the uncomfortable looking chair carefully. It looked very unpleasantly like a dentist's chair, only made of bare metal with nothing resembling a cushion. With a faint frown, he did as he was told and climbed up into it. "That's not making me feel real great about this, you know."

"Blame the powers that be. They don't direct a lot of resources down to low-priority processing," she sighed. "You can relax, though. I haven't had an accident yet, and I've done this a _lot_. There we go. Done."

"You sure you did it right? Did you use enough duck tape? Did you remember to hit it with a hammer?"

"Of _course_ I hit it with a-" the operator froze as she turned to face him. "Why the hell do you have pens sticking out of your ears?"

T689 shrugged and gave his right pen a flick. "Brain massage. It's kind of nice. You should try it."

"No thanks. Take those things out, okay? You're kind of freaking me out here…"

Rubbing the pen, T689 hummed in thought. As he idly twisted the pen, he said, "Well, I guess so. There's such a thing as too much of a good thing."

"Great. So-"

T689 yanked the pens out of his ears and promptly rammed them into the top of his head. He somehow managed to drive over half their length into his cranium.

"...you just shoved a pair of pens through your skull."

Grinning at her, T689 declared, "I have antennae! I'm a bug!"

"How the hell did you do that? They're just _pens_ and it's your damn _skull_. You can't actually do that," she protested.

"Physical constructs here are nothing more than the residual preconceptions that tie us to a world we no longer inhabit and rules that no longer bind us. Discarding those rules is as easy as deciding we no longer need them and believing we can act outside of them," T689 explained.

The operator stared at him in shock.

T689 looked back with a placid expression and eyes shining with profound enlightenment. "I…"

he whispered.

"You?" the operator asked in an eager and amazed voice.

T689 pulled the pens from his head, screamed and shoved both of them straight into his forehead, one next to the other. "...am a _unicorn_!"

"Get the hell in the damn chair!" the operator snapped in return.

Still giggling, T689 plopped into the chair as ordered.

The operator walked around to the other side of a large metal desk, brushing her hands across another one of those strange metal plates. A set of heavy metal restraints snapped around his arms, legs, waist and forehead.

"Hey! What the hell!? This isn't the end I like to be on!"

"...what?"

"Nothing."

Shaking her head, she frowned at him and stated, "They're so you don't move. Trust me, you-"

"-don't want to do that? Yeah, seems like a lot of that goes on around here."

"You have no idea. Now, I'll need your card. Hand it over," she ordered.

T689 very obviously and pointedly looked down at his restraints.

"Right. My bad. Where is it?"

"My pants," T689 responded. "I put it right in my pants. I didn't want to lose it."

Sighing again, the woman walked back around the desk and started reaching towards his nearest pocket.

"No, no. Not there. It's in my pants. _In_ my pants. Its right down there, in the front."

"Yeah, funny. Where is it?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"It's… actually in your pants, isn't it? You seriously shoved your card down your pants…"

T689 nodded in confirmation. "I didn't want to lose it. I've never lost anything I keep in my pants. Aside from my penis, that is."

"...you've lost your… _that_?"

Nodding again, T689 declared, "It happens all the time. It's detachable."

"You're a h3X, aren't you?"

T689 snickered. "Jesus, we've got a reputation around here, huh? Wait. Shit. Can I say 'Jesus' here?"

"Most souls don't handle being dead nearly as well as you guys do. Some are pretty okay about it, but they still don't go around making stupid jokes. They also don't shove their card down their pants. Why would you even do that?"

She received an aghast look in response to her question. "Because… it's my _card_ , man! I have to take care of my card! So I put it down where I keep all the really important things I have to take care of. I even polished it real good, just like the rest!"

Muttering to herself, she walked back around behind her desk and touched the plate. Most of T689's restraints opened, leaving only his ankles bound. "There. Get out your card, wipe it off, and give it to me."

"'Kay," T689 said happily. He reached into his left pants pocket and withdrew his card. Grinning, he held it out to her. "Here you go!"

"..."

"Yeah, I just wanted to see if you'd actually reach into my pants. It'd also be the most action I've gotten in 28,971 millenia. That was a _long_ line…"

Growling, she snatched the card from him. "This is why I hate- What the hell? This can't be right…"

"What?"

"This says you're supposed to be in high-priority. Why in the multiverse are you down here? Did you mess with this thing?" she demanded in an accusing tone.

T689 gave her the "Are you an idiot?" look. "Uh, it's my _card._ What kind of idiot would mess with their card? And how would I even do that? It's not like I could just write all over it with a pen."

Still frowning, she walked around her desk and fed the card into a small slot. If anything, her look immediately become more puzzled. "Okay, something's seriously messed up here. The system doesn't have you factored into a timeline at all. You're flagged to be scrapped after this life, too. That shouldn't happen to a high-priority soul…"

"I'm guessing getting scrapped is bad."

"What the hell do you think?" she asked sarcastically. "Look, I've gotta go check this with my boss. I don't know how long it'll take, so I'll be really nice and leave you like that. Don't go anywhere."

T689 looked down at the thick metal bands around his ankles. "How do you figure I'm going to go somewhere?"

"Fine. Don't mess with anything. Knowing your type, you'll find a way to do it without leaving the chair. Don't. Really, really bad things will happen if you do."

"Ooh, what kind of really, really bad things?" T689 asked with wide, sparkling eyes.

The tech sighed. "Let's see. Mess with _that_ and your soul might be lost in the void. _That_ could mess up your incarnation and kill you as soon as you land. The one over there could do irreparable damage to your base structure. This one formats you, so it just might scramble what passes for a h3X's mind. The one over there will cause the entire lab to be consumed in an existential implosion. It also doesn't actually do anything, so I have no idea why it's there."

"Oh. It's probably good I can't reach that one, because I'd totally mess with it."

"Yeah, I figured. Just behave for a while while I get this sorted, alright?"

T689 nodded agreeably. "So if you get it fixed, does that mean I'm not getting scrapped?"

The tech gave him a look that almost qualified as sympathetic. "Sorry. Once you're flagged, it takes direct intervention from some really high ranking jackass to fix it. Chances of that happening are pretty nonexistent under normal circumstances."

"Oh…"

"Yeah… sorry…" she said with some actual feeling. "Look, I'll get this sorted. Just behave for a while."

T689 scowled as she left the room. This entire situation really didn't set well for him. From what he was gathering, he was being disposed of because he wasn't useful. He wasn't useful because of how they'd made him. Essentially, they were getting rid of him because they'd screwed up. There was absolutely nothing fair about that.

He studied the machine the tech had indicated would format him. It was a large, chunky device covered in thick cables and metal rods. Some of those cables ran over his head and connected it to an arch wrapped with exposed copper wires hanging above his head. It was pretty far out of his reach, but…

"Ah, what the hell. May as well."

The sound of a zipper opening echoed across the empty workshop. It was quickly followed by water splashing and a relieved sigh. Popping and hissing filled the area shortly after, accompanied by the distinct scent of fried electronics and burning plastic.

"Oh, man. I've been holding that for an aeon…"

Eventually, the tech returned to her workshop. Entering the room, she was greeted by,

"-bottle of beer! Take one down, pass it around, no bottles of beer on the wall! Round 935,417! Sing it again! Ninety-nine bottles of- Oh, hey! You're back!" he exclaimed happily. "Bummer. I was just getting started. We all set?"

She nodded. "It took a bit, but we're good. They're shoving you into a timeline that'd scheduled to be discontinued in a few centuries. You can't do a lot of damage there."

"Oh, ye of little faith."

"Yeah, I figured… that's… Why does it smell like piss in here?"

T689 looked at her with wide, horrified eyes and whispered, "I had an accident."

"...you pissed on my cradle? You seriously got piss all over it?"

"Yes. Yes I did. That's exactly what I got piss all over. Definitely not something else."

"How does that even work!? You're just a soul! Souls don't have to piss!"  
T689 looked at her in bewilderment. "We don't? Huh. I thought I had to piss. Maybe that's why I did? Maybe Descartes had it all wrong. I think therefore I _piss_ , is more accurate."

"And to think, I almost felt bad for you for a minute there."

T689 turned and gave her a look cold enough to make her take a step back. "I don't need anyone's pity. Not now, not then. Never."

"I… uh…"

"Unless you're offering a pity grope. I'm okay with pity gropes. Here, offer me a pity grope and I'll show you!"

"Look, just lay back in the chair, okay? We'll get this done nice and quick."

T689 obediently relaxed back into the seat. The metal restraints immediately snapped into place, causing him to flinch slightly. The needle that suddenly plunged into the side of his neck startled him a lot more. Warmth spread from the puncture and his thoughts grew a little hazy as the arm-mounted syringe swung away.

"Ow! What the hell? Did you seriously just… seriously… did you needle me in the neck?" T689 asked unsteadily.

"Technically I didn't. That's just how you perceived a metaphysical event through the physical senses you're used to. That was a primer program that strips your normal defenses away and makes you more susceptible to the reformat. It also throws your soul into disarray, which is why you feel a little loopy."

"You... dosed me? Ooh, that's... some good shit. Are you going... to take advantage... of me now?"

"No."

"What if I… ask you all nice like?"

"No. Just be quite and… What the hell? That's not right. Why would that reading be-"

There was a pop and a hiss. A arc of power leapt from one of the strange machines and grounded into the floor, leaving a broad charred mark.

"Hehe… I peed on your things. You have… pee things," T689 giggled.

The woman stared at him in horror. "You unbelievable idiot! Do you have any idea what you just did? Shit! This will mess everything up!"

"Just… stop it. I can… wait."

"There's no 'stop' button, you idiotic hex! This gear wasn't exactly made with pissing morons in mind. How the hell did you even do that? You shouldn't have been able to…"

"I'm awesome like that."

"Yeah, well, you're also pretty screwed. This thing's on the fritz in a pretty big way. You managed to screw up the aim assist so bad it's offline. I'm not even sure I can hit the right timeline, let alone the right incarnation. You might just end up in the Void."  
"That… doesn't sound good."

"Shit! Shit! It's not good at all! Damn it, if I bind you to the wrong role, It'll screw up the whole timeline! I don't even know what happens if you hit a low-priority role with a high-priority incarnation!"

"Hehe. I'm not… even alive and I'm… messing stuff up."

"Damn it," the operator sighed. "Well, are you a gambling man, hex?"

"Not really…"

"You are now. Good luck!"

"Wait! I-"

And everything went black.

* * *

Author's Note:

I was feeling pretty uninspired regarding both Unheroic and Something Familiar, so I started in on this instead. I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. I originally intended to go a little further, but I decided to keep this bit separate and call it a prologue.

New Game Plus is a story about identity. The core of the story revolves around our concept of self and what makes us who we are. So often in fiction you someone who suddenly becomes something else, or finds out they weren't what they thought they were all along. I've always wondered how they deal with it, especially those who are forced to lead double lives.

My answer: they deal with it like anyone else. Badly.

So what happens when you think you can't walk away from you past, when you think you can't escape your future, or when you think you can't avoid your destiny? What if you lose everything you think defines you, or if you never had it at all? When you have to watch someone important to you slowly slip away even as you try to get rid of your own humanity, how do you deal with the guilt?

So, the idea here is to write something more serious that my other stories. That might be hard to believe from this prologue, but it's the truth. There'll still be a lot of humor, but I'm going to try to keep it a little more grounded and less random. A lot of it will come from T689 who, as noted, is definitely pretty far into the erratic side. The h3X are just as able to function normally as anyone else, but they quite often see no reason to.

Currently, my plans are to include characters from Card Captor Sakura and Sailor Moon as straight inserts. Obviously they won't be the _exact_ same characters, much of which is because they're no longer little girls. Symphogear and Nanoha get some love too, but in a much more indirect way. There won't be characters straight from the series, but rather other characters related to the same agencies and using Devices / Symphonic Gear. This is mainly because I'm not real crazy about any of the characters. I'm also considering RWBY, Madoka Magica, Alien Nine, and whatever other random crap pops to mind.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Next chapter has actual fanfiction content stuff. Yay! Not sure when that'll be, because I pretty much work on whatever I feel inspired for, but I'll probably be sometime in the next decade.

Goals are easy to meet if you set the bar really low.


	2. Spoiled Sausage Syndrome

The city sprawled out before, an endless field of neon lights. From his vantage - a rooftop ledge 120 stories in the air - they seemed to go on forever.

T689 had never seen anything like it, not in either life. He'd never really spent time in cities the first time around, his hatred of people and crowded surroundings driving him away. Now he had no difficulty with either of those things. Unfortunately, he had been _subtly_ encouraged to avoid the cities of his homeland since his late teens. He'd only been standing there for fifteen minutes, but he already knew Tokyo better than any American city.

Somehow he'd gone his entire life without realizing how badly he missed the quiet splendor of-

 _I don't like it here. The air's all icky. Why's the air so… icky?_

 _I agree. The soil is tainted and buried far beneath the work of man._

 _Do you two really have to whine? Just deal with it._

 _Oh, no. Let them complain. Tell me, how does it pain you? Feel free to go into detail…_

 _Ew. No. What the heck is wrong with you?_

 _I am quite confused by your attitude as well. Is not the water tainted as badly as the earth?_

 _Yes, it is indeed. It's delightfully unpleasant._

 _Ew. Again._

 _It's quite lovely here. The people poison themselves each time they drink or breathe. I believe I have found paradise._

 _It's not bad. Not enough fire, but that's easy to fix…_

 _Yes, let's do that! Imagine, everything vanishing in a blaze!_

 _It remains quite dismaying that one such as you revels in pain and destruction so. You are neither gentle nor nurturing._

 _You wound me. Is not the point of all life death? Suffering is merely a step in the right direction…_

 _Death should be slow and quiet, a gradual dwindling of life's flame._

 _That works too. I'm not picky, you know._

 _God, don't we know it…_

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

"Goddamnit, would you just _shut up_!" T689 snapped. It wasn't until after the words had left his mouth that he realized the voice had come from a much more normal place than where the conversation had been occurring. The shocked gasp also came from the outside, just a few feet behind him. Wincing, he slowly turned and confirmed his fears.

The woman standing behind him would, under other circumstances, be quite attractive. She had exactly the sort of curvy figure he was fond of, and a delicate facial structure that gave her a gentle, somewhat aristocratic look. Her eyes were an almost unnatural shade of amber and her long, waist-length ponytail was an equally odd shade of deep black.

The ponytail was the dead giveaway. She was holding it pulled tight across the front of her white sundress, wringing it between her hands. It was an old habit she'd never quite dropped, and something she only did when she was upset or stressed. If that wasn't enough of a hint, then the hurt look on her face certainly was.

T689 sighed. "Damn it. I wasn't talking to you, Jack. The natives are restless. They're still all riled up from the plane ride."

 _We were carried much too far above the Earth's crust._

 _And there was no wind! And the air was stale! And it tasted like icky people! And it-_

 _Yeah, we get it._

 _I thought it was quite enjoyable, really. Such large tanks of wonderfully toxic fuel. Though, having them so close, yet out of reach, was something of a tease…_

"Okay, I can't even hear myself freaking think! I am _seriously_ going to start handing out timeouts if you morons don't shut up for a minute," T689 threatened. "Don't make me start sending people into the corner!"

Jack frowned at him, but her wounded expression faded. Releasing her hair, she fixed him with a disapproving look. "Jill, you shouldn't be so mean. It's not very nice."

 _Yeah, don't be mean! It's not nice!_

 _Would you be quiet? You're not a parrot._

 _And I disagree. I think it's quite nice. Please, be as mean to us as you want..._

"God. I feel so violated," T689 - Jill - muttered with a shudder. "I should've left you right where I found you."

 _Oh~, how cruel! 3._

Jill shuddered again.

"You really _shouldn't_ be so mean to your friends. Do you think such terrible things about me when I do something you don't like?" Jack pouted.

Sighing, Jill raised a hand to massage his temple. His hand clipped the side of his hoodie, briefly exposing short, black hair and amber eyes, both the same shade as the woman he was facing. He quickly grabbed it and yanked it back forward, concealing his face. "Okay, first, you're my sister, Jack. Of course I don't think about things like that. Second, you're _outside_ my head, which makes you a helluva lot less annoying."

"...I'm annoying…?"

 _You're awful! How could you say something like that!?_

 _It was a rather uncouth statement._

"You know that's not what I meant! You _all_ know that's not what I meant!" Jill protested. He raised a hand and pointed an accusing finger at Jack. "And you. How about I stick a few of 'em in your skull for a bit and see how you like it?"

Jack immediately raised a hand in a warding gesture and took a step back away from the ledge. "You- you can't actually do that, can you?"

 _Can he do that? It sounds fun!_

 _I'm quite confident something like that is not possible._

 _Such a shame. I certainly wouldn't mind being inside of her…_

"I'm just going to assume you didn't mean that in the sense I know you did. Seriously, you're sick," Jill sighed. "And don't worry, I can't actually do that. How the hell would it work? And even if I wanted to try, it'd be pretty hard because I don't have the equipment I'd need…"

 _Yeah, ain't that the truth._

 _And wouldn't it being hard make it easier?_

 _Have no fear. My power is mighty enough to make_ anything _hard._

 _I don't know. This one might be a challenge._

 _Oh, yes. Such cruelty! Let him feel your tongue's barbs~!_

…

…

…

 _Yeah, so let's not talk about this anymore. Ever._

 _I don't understand…_

 _It's about the birds and the bees. Don't worry about it._

 _Oh! I know a~ll about that!_

 _You do?_

 _Yep! When a mommy bee and a daddy bee love each other very much, they find a bird and sting it! Then they-_

 _My… do they sting it at the same time? Does the bird feel both their barbs at once?_

 _Well, yeah. Why else would you have two bees?_

 _There room for a third bee in there?_

 _...what? Why would you need three bees?_

"Alright, that's it! I swear to god, if you don't start behaving I'm slamming my face into the nearest flat surface until I'm unconscious! We all already learned calling _that_ bluff is a bad idea, didn't we?"

 _Enough. Behave._

 _Ooh, you're awake! I thought you were taking a nap._

 _I was. Now I'm not. Don't be nuisances. Behave or pay._

Jill sighed and raised one hand, spreading his fingers. Tiny motes of white-purple power danced between them, crackling and casting eerie shadows across the roof. "Thanks. You're a good girl, Arc," he said happily.

…

"Jesus. What've I told you about blushing? That feels weird as hell."

Jack - closer again, now that she'd been assured she didn't have to worry about unwanted passengers - gave him an indulgent smile. "Are we all sorted out now, brother?"

"About as alright as I get. Arc'll keep them in line until they calm down a bit," Jill replied.

"Then we'd best do what we came to do. We wouldn't want to oversleep and be late to see the Emperor's representative."

Jill sighed and pulled something that looked remarkably like a smartphone out of his pocket. Poking it a few times, he frowned at the screen. "We really need to remember to charge this thing now and then. It's got enough juice for one or two low-level cards, but that's it."

"Weren't _you_ supposed to be doing that?"

Pausing, Jill rubbed the back of his head and gave her an abashed grin. "Yeah, kinda forgot. We were up late playing Tunnels and Terrors, so I sort of forgot. Keeping track of five character sheets isn't easy. Of course, it doesn't help that Zephyr's campaigns make no sense…"

 _Hey! They do too make sense! You just don't understand, that's all!_

 _Quartz: Indeed. The unicorn made of candy frolicking in the field of eye plants is a rather potent allegory for life in general._

 _Of course it was! It was… uh… what's an allegory?_

"It's something that's not worth even trying to explain to you. Now stuff it, so we can finish up, okay? Considering the Emperor is an actual emperor here - which is weird - I'd rather not piss him off," Jill muttered.

"Jill…"

"Yeah, I know. Don't talk about it," Jill muttered. "No reason for people to think I'm more insane than I actually am. Wouldn't want to screw things up."

"That's not what I-"

Removing a small card from his pocket, Jill slid it into the phone with a click. "Alright. Execute AreaScan_Wide_L3."

A faint, barely visible crackle of energy ran across the device. Glowing symbols immediately appeared on the screen, quickly weaving into a complex pattern. At the same time, tiny points of light shot across Jill's eyes and his gaze went blank.

There was a click as a charred, smoking card was ejected from the device.

"Holy shit," Jill gasped.

"What? What is it?"

His eyes still empty and unseeing, Jill turned his head back and forth. A faint tick appeared by his right eye as he examined the city. "Well, this explains a lot. No wonder they were willing to hire us…"

"Jill, what is it? I can't use intel cards!" Jack prodded.

"Jesus, don't whine like a little girl. You want to know what? This place is totally fucked up, that's what."

Jack fixed him with a disapproving stare and scolded, "Watch your language."

"Since when do _you_ get to scold _me_ , Jack? The place is totally fucked up. What the hell else am I supposed to say? Trust me, I can't think of a single other thing that quite covers this…"

"I'm certain you could put it another way."

Jill sighed. "Fine. This place is full of fuzzy bunnies, then. That's going to be our new code phrase for something that's totally jacked up beyond all recognition. It's full of fuzzy bunnies," Jill decided. "So, Jack, this place is full of fuzzy bunnies. It's full of fuzzy bunnies in a really, really big way. "

"There, you see? It's a bit silly, but don't you feel better?" Jill effused. "You don't have to sound like you're some sort of uncivilized barbarian."

"I _am_ an uncivilized barbarian, Jack," Jill chuckled as he turned around. He froze the moment his unseeing eyes fell on his sister, then leaned forward and examined her carefully. "Hey, did you know you put on seven pou- _Whoa_!"

Jill just barely managed to pull he head back before Jack's hand passed through the air where it had been. He skipped back a few steps, barely halting before going over the edge and plummeting 120 stories. Wincing, he raised his hand to wipe a trickle of blood off his face.

"Hey, what did I tell you about trying to rip my face off my skull. It's not nice," he laughed, flicking the crimson drops off his hand.

 _You deserved it._

"You deserved it," Jack unknowingly echoed. "Do _not_ say things like that to a lady!"

"Yeah, some lady. You know that red thong doesn't suit you, right?"

Jack took a few steps toward him, flexing her fingers and growling in a way that didn't sound at all human. Suddenly, she stopped. Looking down at herself with a puzzled frown, she said, "Wait. I'm not wearing a red thong…"

"Yeah, no shit. What kind of sick deviant would program a spell card that let you see someone's underwear under their clothes?"

 _Um… don't we have like, three of those right now?_

"Shut up," Jill hissed.

Jack tilted her head and carefully examined him with a suspicious look on her face.

 _Great job, idiot. You remember she can't hear us, right?_

 _Quartz: Indeed. I believe your reaction did nothing but arouse suspicion where there had been none._

 _Em~ber~, I don't understand. Are the cards bad?_

 _People don't like it when other people can see their underwear. Not unless things are starting to get a little hot, at least._

Jill flinched. "Okay, that's it. Ember, get in the goddamn corner. You're cut off until you learn the difference between funny and painfully idiotic."

 _What? But it was-_

"Mist, how would you like to play with Ember for an hour or two?" Jill asked cheerfully.

 _Oh, that would be wonderful! I can-_

 _Right! Into the corner I go!_

 _But… are you sure? We could have so~ much fun! (◕‿-)_

 _Yeah, I'm sure. I'm pretty sure you shouldn't actually be able to violate someone in here, but after last time…_

"Alright, quite down or I'll have Arc beat the piss out of both of you."

 _I will._

"I know you would, sweetheart. That's why you're my favorite," Jill praised. "Jesus! Don't fucking blush!"

"Um, brother? You were saying something about… fuzzy bunnies?" Jack prompted.

Jill turned to look back out at the city. He couldn't quite keep himself from wincing. The array of colors, patterns and more esoteric input that a human didn't normally have was almost dizzying. Even from his vantage point, he could only see a few small areas that weren't pumping information straight into his brain.

"Wow. I _really_ should have used one of the level 1 cards. The Assisted Casting Device is right on the edge of overloading, and it really feels like my brain's about to follow it," Jill grunted. "This place is full of fuzzy bunnies, alright. It's full of fuzzy bunnies _and_ fluffy kittens. There might even be an ugly wombat or two in there. Also, it's completely fucked."

"Jill!"

"I'm not kidding, Jack. There's seven intersecting planes, fifteen otherworld gates and almost fifty divergent spaces. Bits of Celestial and Demonic energy are clinging around all over the place, along with three others that just come up as 'unknown type' when I try to fix on them. Seven relic-class artifacts, three of which are dark as fuck. Nine ley nexi, and at least twelve divine beings. Three of those are in the 'you're probably fucked' category. As if that wasn't bad enough, there's at least three dumbasses screwing around with temporal magic."

 _And all the winds here are re~ally annoying! Like some dirty city breeze is better than me!_

"Oh, and apparently the winds here are annoying," Jill repeated. "Anyone else?"

 _Quartz: My apologies. The earth here is altered by the hands of man. It is too far removed from myself to communicate._

 _The water here is weak and tame, content to lay confined in metal prisons. It seems they are too afraid to chat with me. I can feel their terror. Oh, they certainly do know how to entertain a guest!_ _⺌∅‿∅⺌_

 _Power lines everywhere. It's nice. Very nice._

 _Spirits of decay linger on all I see, but they are too weak to hear my voice._

"Quartz and Ruin can't make any friends. Mist _did_ make some friends. Lucky them. Arc is on the verge of something I probably don't want happening in me, and Ember is still in time out. That's about it," Jill summarized with a shrug.

 _But I-_

" _Ember_ is still in _time out_ ," Jill growled.

 _Fine…_

 _Oh, such beautiful cruelty… (‾⌣‾)_

"Okay, what the hell? What'd I tell you about doing that? Never mind that it shouldn't be possible, frickin' emojis are annoying enough when they're _outside_ my head!"

"I hate to interrupt, but what are we supposed to do about this?" Jack asked.

"Hell if I know. For the moment, I'm turning this spell off. I'm getting a headache, and the ACD is getting a lot hotter than it probably should be. Piece of junk..." Jill muttered, tapping the screen. His eyes immediately refocused as the eerie glow left them. "Jesus, do these things explode? I'm pretty sure it's about to explode…"

 _Ooh, I hope it does! Things that go BOOM are fun!_

Jill groaned and stuck the device back into his pocket. "Not when we're holding them, idiot. Making _other_ people go boom is fun. This piece of crap blowing up in my hand? Not so much."

"Does that mean you're finally ready to get another one?" Jack asked hopefully. "RuneTec Systems just came out with a new model that-"  
"I'm not buying you a damn ACD just so you can play Farmville on it, Jack."

Jack slumped and pouted, whining, "But… my cows! They need a new barn…"

 _Her cows need a barn, jerk!_

"Damn it, they're not even real cows, Zeph! Do you pay _any_ attention? Don't bug me about cows that aren't real!" Jill snapped.

Jack quickly leaned in to peer up into her brother's hood. She stared up into his face, as if trying to stare straight into his soul. "Yes, they are, Zephyr! They're real, and they're sad and cold and wet! Don't you feel bad for the poor cows?"

 _You lied to me! How could you lie to me! You said they weren't real, but they-_

Jill quickly unwrapped a piece of chocolate and tossed it into his mouth.

 _-are real and- Ooh, sweet! It's cherry! I like cherry!_

"Why are wind spirits all like crack-charged squirrels with ADD?" Jill moaned.

"Oh, I don't know. It can be quite useful, though," Jack giggled. "Oh Zephyr-"

Jill growled and raised his hands, palms up. " _You_. I'm sorry, Jack… I love you, but I'm going to have to murder you for that. Since you're my only sister, I'll give you a choice: electrocution or immolation…"

A twitch over his fingers sent violent arcs of electricity across Jill's right hand. A similar twitch of his left hand caused absolutely nothing to happen. Observing the hand with a mildly confused look, he gave it a few more experimental flicks.

"Uh… wow. I swear, this never happens to me. Lemme just… uh… work up to it…" Jill muttered. He shook his hand even harder, this time managing to produce a few small flames. "Almost got it. Wait. Nope, don't got it. Ember, what the hell!?"

 _Can I come out of the corner now?_

"Oh, you suck. Fine. Just do something intimidating to- Oh, _fuck_!"

Liquid flame erupted up Jill's arm, covering it completely. His gathered electricity scattered as he began flailing the flaming limb, patting it frantically. All this accomplished was to throw blobs of flame in every direction. The concrete roof quickly began to glow a lovely cherry red where they landed.

"Shit! Shit! Firefirefirefire _FIRE_! My fucking arm is on- Oh, wait. That's _my_ fire. Never mind," Jill chuckled as he stopped flailing around. Using the still blazing arm, he straightened his disheveled hood and shirt. "You know, that 'oh fuck, fire!' reflex is _really_ hard to get rid of..."

 _Does that count as intimidating?_

"Well, it sure as hell intimidated me, so we'll call it good enough."

Jack stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Dear brother, sometimes I can't help but wonder if you went insane at some point…"

"Yeah, get rid of 'sometimes,' 'wonder,' and 'went,' and you're probably onto something there…"

"You used to be so- Oh, what in the world?" Jack suddenly broke off and stepped past him. Standing at the very edge of the roof, she gazed out towards the city. "That's… different."

Turning to stand beside her, Jill said, "You know I can't see shit that far away. What're we looking at?"

Jack edged forward a bit more and leaned out into the void in a way that wasn't even remotely. Just as she was about to topple over, Jill reflexively grabbed the back of her dress. There was a gravelly crunch as he set his feet, hauling her to a stop.

Jack barely seemed to notice. Pressing herself just a bit further, she focused and narrowed her eyes. The orbs shifted in a way that would most definitely disturb a observer. The whites darkened, the irises turned red and her pupils split into two.

"It's a girl. She's bouncing over the roofs. She's in a… oh my. What do you call those outfits the hookers wear? The tight ones with the short skirt?"

"You're going to have to narrow it down. Like, a lot…"

"You remember when we were in Las Vegas a few years ago? Your friend really liked them. He caught Spoiled Sausage Syndrome from that girl…"

Jill shuddered and reflexively slapped a hand over his crotch. A moment later he realized he'd released his sister to do so, and immediately caught her with his other hand. She barely seemed to notice, despite having tilted several inches further.

"That was a sailor suit, Jack. I'm pretty sure the sailors wore them before the hookers did. Thanks for bringing up some really, really horrible memories, by the way," Jill whimpered.

 _Ah, such pain and horror…_

 _And the decay. It was fantastic._

 _It was all gooey and stuff!_

Jill choked and gagged, sliding a few inches across the rooftop. He quickly caught himself, twisting and setting his feet with another stoney scrape.

"Okay, seriously? Stop. Just… stop…"

"Oh, that's not good at all!"

Jill groaned and shook his head. "Of course it's not good, Jack. They call it Spoiled Sausage Syndrome. How the hell could that possibly be a good thing? The only thing worse than SSS is Texan Cockrot…"

"Focus, Jill! The girl, she's running from something."

` "Maybe she's just in a hurry to get home?" Jill suggested, withdrawing a chocolate bar from his hoodie. He stared at it, studying the foil wrapper, then turned to examine the hand holding his sister's collar. "Jack, do you really have to lean like that? She's what, like a mile away? Is the extra two feet really going to make a difference?"

"It helps me concentrate," Jack insisted. "And don't be stupid."

Sighing, Jill raised the chocolate to his mouth and began tugging at the wrapper with his teeth. His efforts were completely ineffectual, and somewhat laughable as well.

 _Oo~h! Open it! Open it, open it, open it, open it, open it, open it!_

"Da fug do too thingk um triding to joo?" Jill grunted around the wrapper. "Fuggin ting! Joo aldost bun?"

"What? No! Jill, there's something chasing her! They're… I don't know what they are… They're really ugly, and don't look very nice at all."

 _Helpful._

 _She realizes that describes three-quarters of the people we know, right?_

 _Open it, open it, open it, open it, open it, open it!_

"We have to do something to- Ack!" Jack suddenly screeched.

Jill watched with interest, using his now free hand to unwrap the candy bar. His sister plummeted over the edge of the skyscraper, just barely managing to twist before her feel left the roof. With a quiet snarl, she slammed one hand down on the low barrier she'd been standing on. There was a very audible crunch as her fingers dug deep into the concrete, halting her fall.

"God damn it! Almonds!?" Jill shouted, spitting out a mouthful of chocolate. "How the hell did we end up with the almond kind?"

 _But… but… I like almonds!_

"Yeah, you would…"

Jack jabbed the fingers of her other hand into the rooftop and dragged herself up with a grunt.

"You _dropped_ me!" she shouted.

"Yeah, I was here for that part, actually."

"How could you drop me, Jill!?"

Jill shrugged. "It's really easy," he replied. "I just kind of opened my hand and let go. As it turns out, that's all it really takes. Want a candy bar? It's almond."

Glaring at him, his sister snatched the offered snack out of his hand. "You are a _terrible_ brother," she snapped, biting a big chunk out of it. "You should be ashamed. You could have made me rip my dress!"

"So? I bought it for you after you blew your cut on that microtransaction shit."

Still trying to burn a hole through his skull with nothing but her pissed-off gaze, Jack hissed, "My _cows_ need a barn, _Jill_. What part of that is hard to understand?"

 _Oh no! Not the cows! They'll be all wet and cold!_

"Shut the hell up about the fucking cows, Zeph! They're not fucking real!"

 _It's quite a shame, really. I've never had a chance to watch a cow suffer. It must be lovely._

"Right. The next person who says the word 'cow' is going in the corner, got it?" Jill threatened.

 _But… they're cold… please help them, Onii-chan!_

"...alright, who taught her that? I swear to god, you may as well build a house in the corner because you're going to _live_ there!"

 _But "Onii-chan," don't you like it?_

"I hate to say this, but weren't you about to try and force me to do something idiotic and pointless, Jack?" Jill asked as he slumped slightly.

Jack looked at him, obviously confused, for several seconds. "What are you- Oh! The prostitute! You have to go help the prostitute, Jill!"

"Okay, first of all, she's not a prostituted. Well… actually, she _might_ be a prostitute. I guess. Kind of hard to say either way at this point," Jill mused. "And second of all, why the hell should I help her? We're not even getting paid yet."

 _Maybe if you help her, she'll "help" you._

 _Oh, yes. It would be so nice to hear her screams, wouldn't it?_

" _Please_ tell me you meant that in the filthy, perverted way. You know, the way that doesn't involve whips and… Well I guess _sometimes_ it involves whips and chains."

"Jill! The prostitute!"

"Fine!" Jill groaned. "Tell you what: shut up about the cows and the freaking ACD, and I'll help her. How's that?"

"But…"

Turning, Jill waved over his shoulder. "Right, then. You help her, then. I'm headed back to my hotel room."

"I can't! They're going to fast. I can't catch up if they don't stop."

"You know I don't work for free, Jack. That's the deal, take it or leave it."

Jack bit her lip in indecision, glancing over her shoulder. Finally she stomped her foot and huffed, "Fine! Not forever, though. Just for a while!"

"Good enough. Let's get the over with. _Zeyphr_."

 _Yay! We get to play!_

A strong wind tore across the rooftop. It tugged at Jacks skirt and howled around Jill so violently it was almost visible. Deep gouges appeared in the concrete surface of the roof. Jill turned and walked past his sister, pausing just in front of the long drop.

"Jill! Don't break anything you shouldn't!"

"Yeah, I wouldn't count on that," Jill said with a grin. Vaulting forward, he launched himself high into the air.

* * *

"You picked the wrong alley," the young woman sighed.

The creature behind her either didn't understand or didn't care. Judging by its appearance, it could have easily been either one. It was yet another of the strange creatures that had been appearing in the city, bits of metal and stone held together by corrupt, blackened flesh. Though they were all constructed in the same basic fashion, almost every one of them had looked at least a little different.

This was looked like a massive man, assuming that man was headless and had four arms. All the arms and both legs ended in brutal-looking bone claws. A horrible maw ran straight up the middle, from the pelvis up, splitting its torso loosely in half.

The woman frowned, turning as it slunk out of the shadows. Despite the beast's terrible visage, she simply looked at it with an expression of faint annoyance. Smoothing her fashionable blouse, she gave it a glare and said, "Do us both a favor and leave. I'll be in trouble if I ruin another outfit."

The beast showed no more reaction to this warning than it did the first. It stalked forwards, thick gobs of fluid oozing from it's huge mouth. They slid down and dribbled off its crotch in a way that looked _very_ inappropriate.

"Fine. Have it your way," she muttered. Turning, she twisted her hand. A large, black card with silver tracing on it slid into her hand. A flick of her wrist fanned it out, revealing that it was, in fact, three cards.

" _Fight. Sword. Shield._ "

* * *

The creature slammed into the wall, splattering it was dark fluids. Its boney tentacles flailing as it slid down. Eventually its struggles weakened and ceased entirely. As what little light it had in its eyes faded, it started at the girl standing over it. She looked down at it, the faint glow leaving her eyes.

"I told you. You shouldn't have made me sing…"

* * *

 _Miia Vis_

 _TSA Agent ID - D9E2320O8_

 _Report #47_

 _Unknown entities of extradimensional origin continue to appear in my jurisdiction._

 _This marks my tenth request for intervention and additional support._

 _Communication with the main office had been dark for six months, local time._

 _In accordance with TSA Charter Article 175, Section 29, I am assuming the command structure has broken down._

 _I will now be acting as supreme authority of Surveillance Unit #H94Y._

 _Under my own orders, I am declaring that the TSA noninterference doctrine no longer applies._

 _From the time this report is sent, my parteners and I will provide active support to the residents of this world._

 _Miia Vis_

 _Agent of the Second Order_

 _Acting commander of Surveillance Unit #H94Y_

* * *

Author's Note:

So, I'm probably going to be posting this - and maybe Unheroic - in smaller chunks than I normally write. That's the plan for the moment, at least.

At some point it'll be a lot clearer who's saying what, but it's meant to be confusing at the moment. They're all kind of a jumble, like being in the middle of a small crowd that's talking about a bunch of different things.

Other than that, I don't really have much to say.

So… I saw this huge-ass squirrell the other day. The damn thing was as big as my cat, and my cat's pretty big. I sure as hell wouldn't want to meet that thing in a dark alley.


End file.
